


I'll give them one hell of a show

by Splat_Dragon



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Animal Abuse, Animal Transformation, Animal main character, Dimensional Traveling, Fix It, No Romance, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Relationships, She WAS a human and got turned into an animal, Tags May Change, characters will be added, kind of, kind of?, not on purpose
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:15:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25958893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Splat_Dragon/pseuds/Splat_Dragon
Summary: Fun: Playing video games.Not fun: Being turned into a dog and dropped into another world.Yeah. Don't recommend. Sure, getting adopted by the Avengers? That's nice. But that causes a lot more problems - and how do you act like a dog, anyways?
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	1. There's a world out there / Why does no one care?

###  _I'll give them / one hell of a show_  
~Give Them a Show, Ella Hunt, Paul Kaye

###  _There's a world out there / Why does no one care?_  
~Break Away, Ella Hunt, Malcolm Cumming, Sarah Swire

For the record?

People _suck._

She didn’t know if it was this new world or if she’d just never noticed it before, but people were selfish and cruel to stray dogs. Maybe it was because it was a city, one with way too many drug addicts and that never slept.

Or maybe it’s because she’s not exactly a _pretty_ dog, big and kind of scary looking. When she walked by, people pulled their children close for fear of her snapping, and it did kind of hurt.

And as the days passed by, it only got worse. Her fur matted and tangled, became covered in city grime - oil and dirt, twigs and stones and gravel and who-knows-what from what she’d managed to scavenge (and _oh_ how low she’d fallen, she’d retched the first time she’d managed to dig out a Whopper, or whatever it was called in this new world, the wrapper had been covered in ketchup, but she’d been _so hungry_ and it had only been half eaten) and she was pretty sure some blood that she hadn’t been able to get out after some asshole had thrown a beer can at her head.

  
  


She knows she slinks when she walks.

Her head low between her shoulders. Tail swishing behind her for balance - and she has a _tail,_ how weird is that? - as her shoulders and hips roll and sway.

More feline than dog.

But she doesn’t want to hurt anyone. Had been only ever placid since waking up in that dumpster in this world, been almost more so as a human.

But people are afraid of her. She’s large, she knows that. Has to look down to meet the gaze of the children that the mothers and fathers pull to their sides. And when she’d caught a glimpse of herself in a puddle, her fur had been black as pitch.

She can’t blame them, but she really does wish they’d give her the benefit of the doubt.

She’s _so hungry._

  
  


She sleeps during the day.

There’s an alley. It’s not quiet - the city is _loud,_ louder than the time she’d visited New York in her world (and _her world,_ that’s such a strange concept, and it should alarm her more but maybe she’s in shock, maybe she’s focused more on surviving and later it will hit her harsh as that beer can had), roaring in her ears - but _less_ loud, shielded by cobblestone walls on three sides, and other dogs have left it be. She doesn’t question her good luck - she hasn’t had much of it lately - and strikes up an uneasy truce with the alley-cats that call it home, gives the cat she calls ‘Mama’ on account of the litter that mewls at her side a wide berth and sleeps during the day.

  
  


Night is safer.

There are people - New York is very much the city that never sleeps - but not as many. They don’t notice if she walks by, her black fur helping hide her if she stays away and, sometimes, if they’re not looking, she’ll steal something they’ve left unattended, wolfing it down before they can see her.

In her world, she’d stayed inside at night. Her home hadn’t been a city, hadn’t been half so big, but it still wasn’t safe for any sort of woman to walk around in the middle of the night. Now, though criminals walked the streets, and she had to be careful not to step on the poor homeless people - and she felt horrible, because they were the ones most likely to spare some of their sparse rations to ease the pain in her stomach - it was _safe._

  
  


She had a heartbeats’ warning - the rushing of rapid foot-beats - before someone stomped on her tail.

She squealed at the top of her lungs, lunging to her feet and swaying as her head rushed (oh, god, she was hungry), spinning to face an apologetic looking man who looked _very_ familiar and… wow, that shouldn’t have been surprising considering that she’d seen people carrying _Stark_ phones not _I_ phones but really it was.

Clint Barton. Clint _fucking_ Barton.

She’d always been a Hawkeye fan, and his reddish hair and blue eyes were unmistakable.

_‘Oh son of a bitch.’_ and then, licking her lips when her tail throbbed, _“Son of a_ bitch _you stepped on my tail!”_

She’d learned in the beginning that no one could understand her, so it was a rather pleasant surprise - polite Hawkeye! - when he put his hands up and grinned sheepishly, “Easy boy, sorry boy!”

_“Not a boy!”_

“Didn’t see you there!” slowly, once she turned to lick at her poor, poor tail (it hurt!) he lowered his hands and moved to sit against the wall, crossing his legs. “Just need to hide for a minute. Damn, those Anti-vengers are _dicks!”_

Right. The Avengers. Those would be. A thing.

So would villains, of course. So she’d have to be looking out for that. _“Fuuuuun.”_

  
  


Food wrappers crinkled, and her head jerked up so quickly her neck cracked.

_‘Food?’_

Clint froze, his hamburger halfway to his mouth, and looked from it to her, back to his burger, then back to her slowly widening green eyes. A pitiful whimper tore from her throat when he moved to take a bite and, finally, he sighed, shoulders slumping, and broke off a handful and threw it at her feet.

Her tail wagged violently, nearly taking her off her paws, and she gulped it down in one bite without tasting it, god _food,_ and stared at him pleadingly, please sir, I want some more?

He stared at her, looked at his burger, looked back at her, looked back at his burger, wolfed down a bite, then tore off another fistful. Offering it to her, he clicked his tongue, “Hungry, huh? Come on, come on, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Turning to look away from her, he began to finish off his burger.

She stared him down - it was _Clint,_ it was _Hawkeye_ , but the sweetest looking people had been the ones to fling things at her, so it was only slow that she moved, slinking with her stomach to the ground and pausing every few steps to make sure he hadn’t moved, looking off at the street.

Finally, she was nose to finger, and had to be very careful not to take off his finger as she took the food and gulped it down, eyeing Clint’s shit-eating grin. “See? Didn’t hurt you, it’s tasty!”

(That night, she had the shits because of the mayo, so he was a _liar._ Fucking mayo.)

He stood and she scurried back, but he only dusted off his knees and peeked around the corner of the alleyway. With a nod, he grinned at her, and she moved to trot forward hesitantly - food? Yes? Please? More?

“Sorry boy, gotta go. Steve is gonna _kill_ me for bailing on him.” Clint saluted at her - she trotted after him, but didn’t dare leave her alley during the day, settled for peering out after him as he slipped into the crowd and disappeared.

_“Not a boy!”_


	2. At the dawn of another day, in this hopeless town

###  _At the dawn of another day / [to this] hopeless town_  
~Break Away, Ella Hunt, Malcolm Cumming, Sarah Swire

She’s so hungry.

Her stomach screams.

So she dares to go out during the day.

People stare at her. Give her a wide berth as she slinks by, pull their children to their sides. And maybe it should hurt, maybe it _will_ hurt, eventually. But all she can think is ‘food. food. food.’ and so it doesn’t.

She tries to beg, once or twice. But people cower, snatch their food up, and she slinks away with her tail between her legs.

_‘Please.’_

  
  


And then she meets Captain goddamned America.

She’d stretched out on the grass of a park, panting and trying to cool down - her long, matted black fur tended to absorb the heat, she’d been quick to discover - and been startled as a massive hand carefully touched her head. It had jerked away when she’d done the same, twisting to lay on her stomach, looking up to meet… why were only blue-eyed men nice to her? his eyes sad, and though it had taken her a moment, that strangely styled dark-blond hair was familiar.

First Hawkeye, then Captain America.

Why not?

  
  


He sat back on his heels, murmuring “Easy boy, easy,” and _wow_ she was getting sick of being called ‘boy’, “I’m not going to hurt you.” Steve Rogers offered her a hot dog, bun and all, and completely plain - had he bought it just for her? Her heart panged at the kindness - she hadn’t been shown very much of it lately.

Although, for some reason, it struck her as rather funny. She’d never pegged Captain America as a hot dog fan, but maybe she should have. What’s more American than a hot dog?

  
  


She hated hot dogs, but she was so hungry that she reached out and, fearful of startling him and having the hot dog taken away, took it from his fingers as gently as she could, abandoning all manners once she had it safe and sound in her teeth - no way was he fool enough to take something from a dog, especially growing up when he did - and throwing her head back, swallowing it nearly whole.

Steve Rogers chuckled, “Hungry, huh?” and straightened up and _wow was he tall_ , patting his thigh as he jogged over to a food stand - god, those always smelled good, they hadn’t had many of those where she’d lived Before. Slowly, hesitantly, she crept along after him - he was Captain America, sure, but… why was he being nice to her?

  
  


Cash changed hands, and the sheer amount of hot-dogs he was given left her drooling - she didn’t even care that the stall-owner was eyeing her with obvious suspicion. She tries for a tail wag, but she’s _so tired,_ and it droops, followed by her head.

“Here boy,” Steve Rogers says, offering her one, and she’s quick to gulp it down, though it settles in her stomach like a rock. Like a conveyor belt, he feeds them to her, one-two-three-four, and each one goes down without chewing, though he tells her to slow down, be careful. But she’s too hungry, and eats until her stomach’s bloated and she feels somewhat nauseous.

  
  


He straightens up, looks at his watch when it beeps, and frowns, patting her on her head. “Hope I’ll see you again boy,” before jogging off.

She’s violently sick that night, the hot-dogs like lead in her stomach.

  
  


The last Avenger she meets, naturally, is the Hulk.

Not Bruce Banner, but the Hulk. Massive, green and all.

There’d been loud crashing and shouting and she’d huddled down in her alley, watching as Mama Cat - apparently an awful, shitty Mama, considering that she’d darted from the alley in an orange streak the moment the fuss kicked up - vanished, praying it didn’t come her way.

Considering her luck, it shouldn’t have been a surprise that the Hulk, when the fight came to a close, came crashing to a stop in her alleyway.

  
  


She stared at him.

He stared back.

She began to make a high-pitched whining noise.

He stared back.

“GOOD DOGGY.”

The Hulk reached out and, surprisingly gentle for _the damn Hulk,_ stroked her head. Even still, she stumbled, bracing herself and continued to stare. 

Maybe if she didn’t move, he’d leave.

“GOOD GIRL.” he stroked her again.

Of course the ‘giant green rage-monster’ would be the only one who _actually gendered her right._

The Hulk petted her until he shrunk down into a curly-haired scientist, one who looked _really confused_ when she hauled ass, bolting around him and fleeing down the street.

  
  


...still. It had been a long time since she’d had a friendly touch - it had been over a month since she’d met Captain America, and he’d barely patted her head.

But Bruce Banner and the Hulk were two _very different_ people and, besides, she didn’t want to be there when the others came looking.


	3. when you’re broken on the ground, you will be found

###  _when you're broken on the ground, you will be found_  
~You will be found, Ben Platt, Kristolyn Lloyd, Will Roland, Laura Dreyfuss

_‘I’m never leaving my alley again.’_

She froze, legs locked, unable to move.

She’d been turned into a dog. She’d met Captain America. Spent well over half an hour being petted by the Hulk.

But robots? It was robots that broke her.

  
  


A blast struck the one tumbling towards her, and she started making the same whining sound that she had when she’d been trapped with the Hulk.

“Dammit dog! Get the hell out of here!”

Iron Man stopped in front of her, making a motion as though to say _‘shoo! shoo!’_ and she spun and bounded off with quickly increasing speed, body built for rapid sprints - goddamned Iron Man. That’s three off her bingo card, then.

  
  


She skidded around a corner, stumbled, and rolled with a high pitched squeal, came up in a run. _“Ow ow ow my paw!”_

The air crackled with ozone, and she barely managed to throw herself to the side, vision going white with pain, as one of the robots - fucking _robots_ \- crashed to the ground, crackling with electricity, a woman clad in black leather wrapping her arms around its ‘head’ and yanking back, snapping it off.

_‘Well, there’s the Black Widow square,’_ she thought, whirling about and racing down a side-street.

And then, of course, a man crashed to the ground, landing in a squat, and nearly squashed her.

The shock wave that his hammer sent out though, did knock her off her paws.

She groaned and stayed where she laid. Clearly, someone had it out for her. _“Just kill me. Please, please, just kill me.”_

A big, meaty hand grabbed her by her scruff and lifted her up, setting her on her paws. She looked up at Thor, eyes wide and pathetic, and he nodded down the street “Get out of here,” before spinning his hammer around and launching off into the air.

It looked a _lot_ less dumb in real life than it did in the movies.

  
  


She hauled ass down the street, each step making her paw throb but she could hurt later. At least until the goddamn Hulk slammed into her at full speed.

When she hit the pavement, she didn’t bother even trying to get up. Everything hurt, and goddammit everything _sucked,_ so she closed her eyes and passed out.

  
  


“DOGGY?”

Vaguely, she was aware of a massive hand scooping her up and cradling her close. Was very much aware of a swooping feeling in her stomach, wondered idly _‘am I on a rollercoaster?’_ and oh god she was gonna _hurl_ she wanted off Mr. Bones’ Wild Ride and made a pathetic sound and

Oh. Okay. That abrupt stop was. Not fun.

“Hey big green, what’ve you got there?”

The light that hit her eyes then made her want to scream, but she could only settle for a whine. “DOGGY HURT. HELP DOGGY.”

“Aw, he’s not dead is he?” oh, that was Hawkeye, wasn’t it? She liked Hawkeye, he was nice. “He’s my buddy!” never-mind, he touched her head and _fuck_ that hurt fuck Hawkeye he can burn in hell.

“HELP DOGGY!” oh god oh no Hulk please, it felt like the world was shaking around her as the Hulk waved his hand in emphasis, was this how that poor fish felt in Finding Nemo? _‘No I don’t wanna go belly up…’_

“Okay, okay big guy don’t shake the dog!” sorry Hawkeye Iron Man’s her favorite now, and Hulk seemed to like him too seeing as he listened, unfurling his fingers so she could get a nice, long look at that golden face peering emotionlessly down at her. Wow. That was creepy.

_“Hi.”_

A voice called out not far away, and _‘oh where’s he going?’_ Iron Man vanished from her sight, but not without a dry laugh, “all this fuss over a dog.” though his voice was more amused than disdainful.

Just another day in the life of the Avengers, after all.

  
  


“Well, hey there boy,”

_‘Oh hi Steve, fancy meeting you here,’_ although he could have been a bit more gentle picking her up, she rather thought, crying out in pain as her ribs screamed and when had they started to hurt? and he was _tall_ goddamn but even still he struggled to carry her, finally slinging her over his shoulder as he broke into a jog, heading down the street.

The vet’s office JARVIS guided him to, of course, was the only building in a block’s radius that hadn’t taken any sort of damage. The secretary’s face when _Steve Rogers,_ Captain America suit and all, came jogging in, a massive black dog slung over his shoulder, was camera worthy.

_‘...not a boy.’_


End file.
